Post by Davey Ortega on Jun 15, 2007 20:16:51 GMT -5
OOC Note: He set me up to good for this..
*The scene opens looking at the rotting, dilapidated, Old School. The windows are busted out, the two front doors completely gone. As we move further in the lockers are hanging on by a nail, or fallen completely. Outcast is standing in the middle of the hall way, staring directly into the camera. His People's Title strapped around his waist. He takes in a breath of air, smiling as he exhales.*
Outcast: There are many ways I could start off. After listening to Mr. Anderson's latest speech there are many ways I want to start off. Though after taking in some deep breathing, I have calmed down. First of all, Jason. Let me assure you that the reason I have not been seen in awhile is not...I repeat NOT because I fear you, or have doubted myself. I have doubted myself for many years, and other people as well have doubted me. I no longer doubt myself and I am going to reveal why. I know you despise history lessons but I think this one will do you well. I believe you find some knowledge with this lesson. You talk about how you are a rising star. How your name is quickly becoming a household name. Jason I as well went into the archives as you did, and slightly laughed at what I saw. You see you talk yourself up, and that is the flaw in your armor. Unless I missed something it clearly states that you, Jason Anderson, the rising star...lost...LOST you're debut match. Now I know I am just an old timer, but how exactly..in your logic please..does a man with one..ONE win under his belt here in the WCF constitute a rising star? It doesn't.
*Outcast slowly closes his eyes, and somberly turns around. He starts walking and comes up to an empty trophy case. He stops and looks at it.*
Outcast: In case you were wondering, the Old School never truly excelled at..how shall we say..acedemicaly eligible sports. We never had trophies because we did not need them. The blood on our fists, and shits were enough. It gave us much more respect for the Old School than some boring, mundane school and boring, mundane students such as yourself.
*Outcast sighs, and starts walking once more. He comes to the broken steps that lead to the Second Floor. He solemnly walks them and reaches his destination. He walks untill he reaches the last class room on the right.*
Outcast: Mr. Anderson..it is time for your history lesson.
*He walks into the room, slowly opening the door and shutting it behind him. The class room looks how it always has. The teachers desk is broken in two, the chalk board hanging to one side. The windows broken from inside out. The desks in perfect rows. He smiles as he walks to the front of the teachers desk and faces his class.*
Outcast: You say you have natural talent, the total package. Well Lex, when I was a rookie stepping into the NCW I didn't have natural talent. I had to learn as I go..and that, my friend, was the hardest part of my career. I had to learn the ropes from the very people who I fought. I had no allies when I first stepped in. I was fortunate enough to have a teacher, then soon he became a close friend of mine..then finally my mentor. I speak of course only of Steve Carr. He is the man responsible for who I am today. He taught me how to work the ring, the mic, the fans. He taught me how to take a steel chair shot, and how to deliver one and you may ask anyone on this roster...when you get nailed by a chair from me, you are not getting up. You see I excelled at something most couldn't. I excelled at the style known as Hardcore. I quickly became the Hardcore Icon in NCW and WCF. Though that is neither here nor there. So imagine, if you will, being able to step into the ring knowing very little. Imagine how nervous I felt. Though the more matches I fought, the more knowledge I gained. That is the key difference between me and you. You probably had personal trainers, coaches, and got a massage after every...hour long training session? Then, you have me. Brutally fighting in matches with only my wits and skill. Training hours, sometimes days at a time just to get myself where I wanted. No trainers, coaches..or massages. Just me. Endlessly fighting, endlessly training. You see I will let you be the favorite in our match. I will. I will do this to my benefit. I am used to being the underdog, the two-to-one favorite to lose. I enjoy that role, because I get to prove them all wrong. The best part is, proving my opponent wrong. Proving you wrong will bring me great satisfaction. Knocking you off this cloud and fantasy life you so truly believe in. You say you are the 21st Killing Machine? Well machines can be dismantled, broken. They can be torn apart easily...but me? I am the NCW Icon, the Hardcore Icon. And Icon can not be destroyed or tarnished. You say I am old, I say I am seasoned. There is nothing self proclaimed about my Legend status. I earned it, I earned it fighting the best the business had to offer. I earned it holding the longest feud in WCF, holding multiple titles, and being apart of something great. So, Mr. Anderson..I will leave you with your trophies and delusions. I will see you on Sunday, where you will face a living, breathing Nightmare. There is one more thing, before I leave. I want you to do one thing for me on Sunday..I want you...to.....
*Outcast closes his eyes and smiles some more*
Outcast:....bleed....for...me.
*The scene slowly fades out as Outcast opens his eyes.*
*The scene opens looking at the rotting, dilapidated, Old School. The windows are busted out, the two front doors completely gone. As we move further in the lockers are hanging on by a nail, or fallen completely. Outcast is standing in the middle of the hall way, staring directly into the camera. His People's Title strapped around his waist. He takes in a breath of air, smiling as he exhales.*
Outcast: There are many ways I could start off. After listening to Mr. Anderson's latest speech there are many ways I want to start off. Though after taking in some deep breathing, I have calmed down. First of all, Jason. Let me assure you that the reason I have not been seen in awhile is not...I repeat NOT because I fear you, or have doubted myself. I have doubted myself for many years, and other people as well have doubted me. I no longer doubt myself and I am going to reveal why. I know you despise history lessons but I think this one will do you well. I believe you find some knowledge with this lesson. You talk about how you are a rising star. How your name is quickly becoming a household name. Jason I as well went into the archives as you did, and slightly laughed at what I saw. You see you talk yourself up, and that is the flaw in your armor. Unless I missed something it clearly states that you, Jason Anderson, the rising star...lost...LOST you're debut match. Now I know I am just an old timer, but how exactly..in your logic please..does a man with one..ONE win under his belt here in the WCF constitute a rising star? It doesn't.
*Outcast slowly closes his eyes, and somberly turns around. He starts walking and comes up to an empty trophy case. He stops and looks at it.*
Outcast: In case you were wondering, the Old School never truly excelled at..how shall we say..acedemicaly eligible sports. We never had trophies because we did not need them. The blood on our fists, and shits were enough. It gave us much more respect for the Old School than some boring, mundane school and boring, mundane students such as yourself.
*Outcast sighs, and starts walking once more. He comes to the broken steps that lead to the Second Floor. He solemnly walks them and reaches his destination. He walks untill he reaches the last class room on the right.*
Outcast: Mr. Anderson..it is time for your history lesson.
*He walks into the room, slowly opening the door and shutting it behind him. The class room looks how it always has. The teachers desk is broken in two, the chalk board hanging to one side. The windows broken from inside out. The desks in perfect rows. He smiles as he walks to the front of the teachers desk and faces his class.*
Outcast: You say you have natural talent, the total package. Well Lex, when I was a rookie stepping into the NCW I didn't have natural talent. I had to learn as I go..and that, my friend, was the hardest part of my career. I had to learn the ropes from the very people who I fought. I had no allies when I first stepped in. I was fortunate enough to have a teacher, then soon he became a close friend of mine..then finally my mentor. I speak of course only of Steve Carr. He is the man responsible for who I am today. He taught me how to work the ring, the mic, the fans. He taught me how to take a steel chair shot, and how to deliver one and you may ask anyone on this roster...when you get nailed by a chair from me, you are not getting up. You see I excelled at something most couldn't. I excelled at the style known as Hardcore. I quickly became the Hardcore Icon in NCW and WCF. Though that is neither here nor there. So imagine, if you will, being able to step into the ring knowing very little. Imagine how nervous I felt. Though the more matches I fought, the more knowledge I gained. That is the key difference between me and you. You probably had personal trainers, coaches, and got a massage after every...hour long training session? Then, you have me. Brutally fighting in matches with only my wits and skill. Training hours, sometimes days at a time just to get myself where I wanted. No trainers, coaches..or massages. Just me. Endlessly fighting, endlessly training. You see I will let you be the favorite in our match. I will. I will do this to my benefit. I am used to being the underdog, the two-to-one favorite to lose. I enjoy that role, because I get to prove them all wrong. The best part is, proving my opponent wrong. Proving you wrong will bring me great satisfaction. Knocking you off this cloud and fantasy life you so truly believe in. You say you are the 21st Killing Machine? Well machines can be dismantled, broken. They can be torn apart easily...but me? I am the NCW Icon, the Hardcore Icon. And Icon can not be destroyed or tarnished. You say I am old, I say I am seasoned. There is nothing self proclaimed about my Legend status. I earned it, I earned it fighting the best the business had to offer. I earned it holding the longest feud in WCF, holding multiple titles, and being apart of something great. So, Mr. Anderson..I will leave you with your trophies and delusions. I will see you on Sunday, where you will face a living, breathing Nightmare. There is one more thing, before I leave. I want you to do one thing for me on Sunday..I want you...to.....
*Outcast closes his eyes and smiles some more*
Outcast:....bleed....for...me.
*The scene slowly fades out as Outcast opens his eyes.*
